Child X

Child, X

Nobody is asked to be brought into the world.  Xavier sure as hell didn’t. 

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and ask myself what I’m doing here in the first place.”  Xavier put his head in his hands.

“Living.  You are a bright kid, X.  What does your father expect of you?”  I asked.

Xavier looked up at me with an intense fire burning behind his tear-glossed brown eyes.

“My father is a professional dead-beat with a degree in avoidance.  An arrogant man with brass balls; willing to show them off to any female with two legs and a pulse.  Unfortunately for me, I have a penis and do not inherit any of my father’s time.”

I handed Xavier a tissue. 

“And your mother?”

            Xavier wiped his eyes and turned halfway around in the couch to blow his nose.

 “I’m batting a thousand in the game of life, doc.  My relationship with my mother isn’t that much better.  She’s an addict of the worse kind – work.  Her job at a local law firm here in Chicago absorbs any and all energy that she could possibly be saving for me.  Her career is her drug of choice.  Sometimes I wish she chose heroin – maybe then she’d trip out, and acknowledge me.”

My eyes wandered around my office, searching for the right words of comfort for the young man.  A portrait of my wife and daughter inside a tacky dollar store frame sat atop my desk.  Why can’t life be as simple for everyone else as it is for me?  The hurried city traffic outside my window caught my eye.  Life moves so fast, especially for the youth.  I wish I knew a way to slow it down.

            “Hello?  Doc?  Are you even listening to me?  For Christ’s sake I can get this kind of treatment at home, I sure as hell don’t have to pay you for it!”  Xavier stood and picked up his coat.

            “Yes, Xavier, I am listening.  I apologize; your story is just one I’ve come across many times.  Please, sit.  We still have time left in our session.”

            “No, Doc.  I’m tired of giving life my all just to let it kick my dick in repeatedly.  I didn’t ask for this you know.  Do you have any idea what it feels like to wake up knowing your entire existence is a mistake?  My parents don’t give me the time of day!”

            “You shouldn’t talk that way.  You’re not a mistake.  Some people just don’t know what they’ve got until it’s gone.”

            Xavier’s eyes widened like they were being held open by clothespins.  “That’s a great point; maybe I should stop trying and just off myself.  They won’t miss me.  My dad’s too wrapped up in other women’s lingerie, and my mom’s eyes haven’t left her laptop screen since the great depression - she doesn’t even realize he’s cheating!”

            “Killing yourself isn’t the ---“

            “Answer.  Yeah, I know Doc.  You preach this to me all the time.  It sounds lovely though, doesn’t it?  No more struggles, no more trying to be heard.  When I’m at home I feel like I’m stuck inside of the snow globe from hell – it’s like no matter how loud I yell, my voice will just echo off onto deaf ears.”

Xavier stood once more to leave.  He had been through a lot during his eighteen years of trying to be noticed.  The hurt he possessed was evident throughout his entire body.  His eyes were dull, glossed over with disinterest to the world around him.  He never smiled; it was like he was allergic.  If I had not been treating him for the last four years, I would have assumed his lips were stuck in a permanent upside down “U” shape.  His posture was that of a rung out towel. Always hunched over, strung out and at a loss for energy.

I smiled at him as he looked back to bid me a final farewell to our meeting.  He gave me a head nod and disappeared. 

      My long day at the office was far from over, but something about Xavier’s demeanor today frightened me.  He brought up suicide a lot, but never really with any serious thought at attempt (from my professional analysis at least).  As the days go on, he seems more and more willing to just cut all ties.  There’s gotta be something I can do for this kid.  Come on, think!   I loosened my tie and started to stroke my five o’clock shadow.  On my desk in front of me sat Xavier’s file, marked “Child X.”  I ruffled through the manila envelope and stumbled upon X’s address.  Bingo!  

            I picked up my desk phone and hit the one key for speed dial.

            “Doctor Freeman’s office”

            “Natalie, cancel the remainder of today’s appointments.  I have to leave the office.”

            “Right away –“

            Click!  That’s all I needed to hear. 

            The window of my office was revealing, the city traffic was extra-heavy today.  Double-laned roads jam-packed like a drive-in theatre.  Horns honked repetitively, and taxi drivers shouted from their driver side windows.  This always humored me.  People insisted that being overly aggressive could get them whatever they’d like.  Such wasn’t the case; traffic was still at a stand-still, and taxi drivers gave up their role as traffic cops.  Being too passive didn’t seem to work either, not for traffic, and especially not for Xavier’s mother.  He’s a good kid.  He doesn’t do drugs; he’s not in with the wrong crowd.  I mean he doesn’t necessarily excel in school, but who would when you live in isolation…

            “Yo! Asshole!  Green means go!”  A burly man with a sleeve of tattoos hung out the driver side of his royal blue, Honda civic SI. 

            I smiled in agreement, relieved to see that traffic had picked up.  Xavier’s house wasn’t too far from the office, but a normal fifteen minute drive took forty-five. 

I double parked, blocking a bike lane and proceeded up the heap of stairs that led to the front door.  I adjusted my tie and fixed my hair in the reflection of the window.  Xavier’s parents have been paying for his appointment fees all this time, yet I still have never met them.  I cleared my throat and rang the doorbell.

            A man with a solid athletic build came to the door drenched in sweat.  He wore a pair of Adidas sweatpants, a white tank top and had a towel around his neck.

            “What can I do for ya?”  He inquired.

            “Mr. Black?  Benjamin Freeman, Xavier’s psychiatrist.”  I extended my hand for a shake.

            The man eyed me up for several seconds before coming to grips with the information I had just fed him. 

            “Ah!  Of course.  Doctor Freeman.  How ya doin?  Carl Black, nice to meet you.”  He gripped my hand like a caveman; I thought for sure he might break it.  On his face he wore an over-exaggerated grin as if to say: “What the fuck are you doing here?”

            I withdrew from the shake and shook out my hand.  What a narcissist! 

            “I was just wondering if I could speak to you and your wife for a few minutes, it’s about Xavier.”

            “What, did the dope do something wrong?  Hon, Xavier’s doctor is here.  He wants to speak with us!”

            Carl escorted me into the house, through the foyer and into the living room.  The house reeked of Yankee candles, and the furniture was top of the line.  I sat carefully on the edge of a couch cushion and awaited Mrs. Black.

            “Cigar?”  Carl offered.

            “No, thank you, I don’t smoke.”  I replied with a smile.

            Carl shook his head.  “Suit yourself, doc.  Sorry I’m all sweaty.  I was downstairs doing super-sets before you knocked.”  He flexed a bicep at me and shot a wink. 

            I forced a smile.  What a self-absorbed prick!  “Very nice.”  I muttered.  “Where exactly is your wife?”

            “Around here somewhere I’m sure.  She’s a busy woman.  It’s tough work making a household run.”  Carl crossed his legs and lit the end of his cigar.

            “Right.  Excuse me, where is your bathroom?”

            “Down the hall, second door on your right.”

            “Thank you.”  I replied, and rushed rapidly down the hall.

            Magnificent paintings decorated the hallway walls.  Van Gogh, Davinci, premier paintings that had to of cost a fortune.  How aren’t these in museums?  I arrived at the second door to my right and turned the handle: locked.

            “Ahem.”

            I turned around to catch a pair of eel-green eyes staring at me from above a stack of papers.  “Sorry, I, uh.. your husband told me this was the bathroom.”

            “No, that is Xavier’s room.  The bathroom is the third door on the right.  Who are you, exactly?”

            “Doctor Freeman, Xavier’s psychiatrist.  Nice to meet you, Mrs. Black.”

            But her face was already buried back into the mountain of papers that sat in front of her.  Xavier was right.  How the hell do you go about getting any type of attention in this house?

            “Excuse me, ma’am.  I’d really like to speak to you and your husband about Xavier when you get the chance.  That is the reason for my visit.  Surely I didn’t come here to arm wrestle with your husband.”  I held up my pipe-thin arms for proof.

            “Hmph.  Very well, Mr. uhm -”

            “Doctor.  Doctor Freeman.”

            We arrived back into the living room to find Carl doing one-handed push-ups on the living room floor. 

            I shook my head in disgust.  “Oh get up you baboon!  Don’t you two realize what you’re doing to your son?”

            Enraged, Carl sprung off the floor and onto his feet with one hand.  “What are you trying to say?  We love Xavier.  He’s our only son!”

            “Yeah?  Have you ever shown him you loved him?”

            “Is this some kind of joke?  Of course I have!  I’m his father!”

            “When’s the last time you showed him affection?”

            “Well..”  Carl pursed his lips together in search of the right words.

            “Carl has a hard time with affection.”  Mrs. Black came to the rescue once more.  What a trend in this house!

            “Right.  What about you Mrs. Black?  When’s the last time you told your son you loved him?”

            The temperature in the room was significantly increasing with all this interrogation.  I was proud of myself for mustering the courage to do so.  Xavier deserved this.  It was the least I could do. 

            “Xavier and I don’t see much of each other.  I work a lot.  But I’m sure he knows.  I give him a roof over his head and clothes on his back.”  Mrs. Black insisted.

            “And money for a psychiatrist.”  I concluded.

            “What is it?  You want more money?!”  Carl thundered.

            I shook my head in disbelief.  Here I am, telling these two parents that they aren’t giving their child enough attention, and all this ape can comprehend of the scenario is that I want more money.

            “Forget it.  I don’t want your money, Carl.”  I looked down at my watch, “it is time, I should be going.  I’d like to say goodbye to Xavier before I leave.  He was awfully upset when he left my office this morning.”

            I made my way back down the hall to the second door on the right: still locked.  I knocked on the wooden frame.  “Xavier, are you in there?”

            “Of course he’s in there, move aside!”  Carl bumped me out of the way.  “Listen here, X.  Open this damned door right now or I’m going to kick it down!”

            “Xavier, sweetheart, it’s mommy.  Open the door please, darling.  Doctor Freeman is here.  He just wants to say goodbye.”

            “Fuck this, Amy.  I’m kicking the door down.”

            Carl took three steps back and took in a deep breath.  He exhaled, let out an ear-shattering warrior cry, and began to charge.  He lowered his 6 foot 4 frame into the door, and off the hinges, it came towering down. 

            “Xavier!  No!”  Carl rushed to the bedside of his son. 

            As a psychiatrist I knew that sound of despair all too well.  The action that consumed that room was what I feared most for all of my patients: suicide.  I stepped over the door and into the bedroom.  Xavier lie on his back, eyes shut, with an oxygen mask covering his face.  From the mask, my eyes followed the connecting tubes.  They led me bedside, next to Carl, where a helium tank sat.

            I stood there, still as a statue.  Amy and Carl embraced each other, sobbing relentlessly.

            “Did…it….hurt?”  Amy asked in between sobs.

            “No.”  I replied.  “N20 suicides are the most painless.  You don’t suffocate.  You breathe normally.  You’ll laugh and hallucinate until you pass out due to lack of oxygen.”

            “How could we not have known!?  XAVIER!!”  Carl roared.

            Clutched in each of Xavier’s hands were folded up pieces of paper.  I retrieved them and began to read:

            Dad,

Do you see me now?  I’m here, in the flesh.  All I ever wanted was to be something you could be proud of.  A real father-son type relationship.  I hate you, Dad.  I hate that you only worry about yourself, and the women you screw behind mom’s back.  I hate that I was never good enough for you.  I hope all your nights spent at other women’s homes mean more to you than this does.  You’re not superman, Dad, just because you have X-ray vision.  Doctor Freeman could see that I was hurting, why not you?

            With pure hatred,

                        X

            My heart dropped.  A tear rolled down my face as I began to open the second piece of paper.

            Mom,

            Do you hear me now?  I’m talking, you’re not listening.  What else is new?  I hope every time you read this my voice plays over in your head like a song stuck on repeat; that is if you even remember what my voice sounds like.  I’m glad work was more important to you than a relationship with your son was.  Dad always prided you for making so much money and giving us everything we could ever hope for.  Apparently that wasn’t enough, because he still screwed other women.  You’re not wonderwoman, mom, just because you have the ability to x out all factors.  Sometimes those factors need to be heard.  Doctor Freeman listened, why not you?

            With pure hatred,

                        X

            My face was now streaming with tears, and my Adam’s apple was running miles up and down my throat.  I ripped both letters to shreds right there where I stood, and clung to the lifeless corpse of Xavier like a sloth to a tree branch.  Sobbing into his chest, I could hear him asking me: Why rip up the letters, doc?  They need to know.  I put my mouth close to his ear and uttered, they already know, X.  They already know.